Indonesia’s Criminal Procedure Overhaul: Reform or Reinforced State Power?

Indonesia is on the brink of its most consequential criminal justice overhaul in decades as the revised Criminal Procedure Code (KUHAP) moves toward implementation on 2 January 2026. Across government, parliament, civil society, and the streets outside the Senayan legislature, the debate has become a litmus test for Indonesia’s democratic identity: will these reforms modernise justice, or concentrate power in ways that heighten the risks of abuse?

 

The government’s narrative emphasises progress. Ministers describe the new KUHAP as a long-awaited update to a colonial-era system, aligned with the revised Criminal Code (KUHP) and guided by principles of restorative justice, human rights, and efficiency. Justice Minister Supratman Andi Agtas claims the reforms will curb past abuses, protect vulnerable groups, and reduce prison overcrowding, while the House argues that more than a decade of deliberations and extensive consultations justify confidence in the final draft. New provisions punishing torture, regulating wiretaps, and outlining supportive regulations, including the use of IT-based criminal courts, are showcased as evidence that the state is serious about accountability.

 

But nearly every point of official optimism has been met by forceful public concern. Civil society organisations, student groups, and legal aid networks argue that the revised KUHAP expands police authority at almost every stage of the criminal process while weakening independent oversight. Article clusters, which enable undercover operations, controlled deliveries, surveillance, data blocking, and even wiretapping without prior judicial approval, mark a shift from judicially constrained investigations to discretionary policing. Articles permitting arrests, searches, travel bans, and detention at the “inquiry” stage, when a crime has not yet been confirmed, represent an even deeper break from the procedural safeguards established after Reformasi.

 

These expanded powers, critics warn, are not hypothetical risks. Indonesia has already seen patterns of excessive crowd control, digital repression, and protest-related arrests in 2024–25. When KUHAP allows detention extensions, broad “urgency” exceptions, and investigative actions without strict time limits, activists fear that the result will not be greater order but a chilling of democratic participation.

 

The restoration of “peace agreements” in Article 74A allowing victims and suspects to settle cases at the investigation stage is another flashpoint. While framed as restorative justice, civil society argues the mechanism is vulnerable to coercion and extortion, especially when negotiations take place before a criminal act is formally established. Government officials insist safeguards exist, but critics note that Indonesia’s unequal power dynamics and uneven police oversight make these assurances thin.

 

Among the most contentious issues is “meaningful participation.” Parliament claims to have incorporated nearly all public input, but civil society groups counter that consultations were curated, draft access was restricted, and opposing experts were sidelined. Reports indicate that political parties themselves struggled to obtain drafts before the bill’s passage, suggesting a level of secrecy incompatible with democratic lawmaking. The fast-tracked timeline intended to ensure KUHAP and KUHP take effect together reinforced perceptions that procedural integrity was sacrificed for political expediency.

 

Finally, beyond procedural questions, the revised Criminal Code introduces sweeping morality and expression-related provisions that recalibrate the relationship between the state and private life. The criminalisation of extramarital sex, cohabitation, and adultery extends legal oversight deep into personal relationships, albeit with prosecutions triggered only by family complaints, an arrangement critics warn is ripe for coercion, retaliation, and selective enforcement nonetheless. Rights groups argue that these articles will disproportionately affect women, LGBTQ+ individuals, Indigenous communities, and millions whose marriages remain unregistered, effectively exposing them to criminal liability in their own households. 

 

At the same time, the expansion of blasphemy provisions, including a new offence related to apostasy that criminalises persuading someone to leave their religion, heightens concerns about shrinking religious freedom and a narrowing civic space. Coupled with new defamation clauses restricting criticism of the president and state ideology, the reforms reflect a broader shift toward state-regulated morality and tighter control over political expression. For a country that has long positioned itself as a pluralist, modern democracy, these developments have profound social implications: they risk deepening social divisions, enabling moral policing, and discouraging openness in public and private life, while raising alarms among tourists, expatriates, and investors who increasingly view Indonesia as moving toward a more restrictive and unpredictable social environment.

 

Some provisions of the revised KUHAP have been welcomed, including optional CCTV installation in interrogation rooms and penalties for torture. But these improvements coexist with structural changes that centralize investigative authority under the police, place civil servant investigators (PPNS) under National Police coordination, and blur boundaries between civilian and security involvement in investigations.

 

The revised KUHAP introduces a new layer of operational and regulatory uncertainty, compelling foreign businesses to recalibrate their exposure by increasing compliance budgets, renegotiating contractual risk clauses, or delaying capital commitments until enforcement patterns become clearer. These reforms signal that Indonesia is entering a period in which enforcement, rather than statutory language, will be the primary determinant of legal certainty. As the new Criminal Code moves toward implementation, companies must closely monitor how police, prosecutors, and local governments exercise their expanded mandates, whether judicial oversight develops in parallel, and how state–business relations, political signals, and stakeholder behaviour shape outcomes. Ultimately, the real impact of KUHAP will be defined not by legislative intent but by its operationalisation in practice, as Indonesia navigates a more complex and discretionary legal environment where the balance of power between state authority, civil liberties, and corporate interests continues to evolve.
 

 

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LEGAL & REGULATORY

December 2, 2025

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